where you invest your love, you invest your life
So there's this thing going around:
Post the first sentence (or three) or a large chunk from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, you'll get talking about writing, and the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
The blocks keeping this in WIP form are less of the don't-know-what-to-write and more of the oh-my-god-you-want-me-to-read-how-many-books-for-homework-this-week kind, but anyway. ANYWAY.
Charles/Erik, XMFC, alternate ending on the beach scene and it spins off from there.
Erik gets drunk. Somehow he thinks this time it will be better than the other times he’s tried, when the feeling of dizziness, the loss of control over his limbs made his heart beat too fast, rabbit quick with panic. It makes him want to run, like he should have run from Shaw, no he did run from Shaw, but the lines get blurred and sometimes-sometimes he can’t remember that it’s all over. That he’s safe now. That he escaped.
That he’s in one of halls in Charles’ mansion, slumped up against the wood paneling and near enough to a potted plant which he’d foolishly thought would support his weight. The dirt is tumbled out across the thin expensive rug and Erik is trying to remember that he is not a child any longer.
He hears a door open and footsteps pad toward him, and Erik curls in on himself, dragging his legs up to protect his belly from the kicks of heavy military boots. He tries to find any trace of metal to push against, slow the blows a little, maybe, but there’s nothing, and it takes him a long unfocused moment to see that the feet are bare.
It’s Charles, Erik thinks with a relief that wants to drown him, but at the same time-it…isn’t. Erik stares at the crouching, worried figure of his friend, but he is not right. There’s something missing, the quiet almost-there presence of Charles brushing against his mind, and Erik sighs, slumping.
“Go away, Raven,” he growls, showing his teeth.
Not-Charles runs a hand through his-her? Confusing. Erik gives it up as a lost cause-hair, but his image doesn’t waver, not even a flash of gold annoyance in those deep blue eyes. “It really is me, Erik,” he says, accent and inflection perfect, “believe it or not. May I ask, why are you attacking the houseplants? In the middle of the night, no less-surely this could have waited until morning.”
Erik glares. “Your brother is insufferable,” he snaps, only tripping over the last word a little.
Not-Charles sighs, a hot puff of air that Erik isn’t entirely certain he can’t feel on his skin. “Of course he is,” he says, holding out a hand, careful not to get too far into Erik’s space. “Can I help you to your room? I promise the plants will still be here in the morning.”
“I don’t appreciate being pandered to,” Erik growls mutinously, regarding the hand and the lines across it, the slim shape of Charles’ fingers, because Charles is not really here to catch Erik looking.
“I know you don’t,” Not-Charles says, quiet. Erik takes his hand.
Post the first sentence (or three) or a large chunk from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, you'll get talking about writing, and the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
The blocks keeping this in WIP form are less of the don't-know-what-to-write and more of the oh-my-god-you-want-me-to-read-how-many-books-for-homework-this-week kind, but anyway. ANYWAY.
Charles/Erik, XMFC, alternate ending on the beach scene and it spins off from there.
Erik gets drunk. Somehow he thinks this time it will be better than the other times he’s tried, when the feeling of dizziness, the loss of control over his limbs made his heart beat too fast, rabbit quick with panic. It makes him want to run, like he should have run from Shaw, no he did run from Shaw, but the lines get blurred and sometimes-sometimes he can’t remember that it’s all over. That he’s safe now. That he escaped.
That he’s in one of halls in Charles’ mansion, slumped up against the wood paneling and near enough to a potted plant which he’d foolishly thought would support his weight. The dirt is tumbled out across the thin expensive rug and Erik is trying to remember that he is not a child any longer.
He hears a door open and footsteps pad toward him, and Erik curls in on himself, dragging his legs up to protect his belly from the kicks of heavy military boots. He tries to find any trace of metal to push against, slow the blows a little, maybe, but there’s nothing, and it takes him a long unfocused moment to see that the feet are bare.
It’s Charles, Erik thinks with a relief that wants to drown him, but at the same time-it…isn’t. Erik stares at the crouching, worried figure of his friend, but he is not right. There’s something missing, the quiet almost-there presence of Charles brushing against his mind, and Erik sighs, slumping.
“Go away, Raven,” he growls, showing his teeth.
Not-Charles runs a hand through his-her? Confusing. Erik gives it up as a lost cause-hair, but his image doesn’t waver, not even a flash of gold annoyance in those deep blue eyes. “It really is me, Erik,” he says, accent and inflection perfect, “believe it or not. May I ask, why are you attacking the houseplants? In the middle of the night, no less-surely this could have waited until morning.”
Erik glares. “Your brother is insufferable,” he snaps, only tripping over the last word a little.
Not-Charles sighs, a hot puff of air that Erik isn’t entirely certain he can’t feel on his skin. “Of course he is,” he says, holding out a hand, careful not to get too far into Erik’s space. “Can I help you to your room? I promise the plants will still be here in the morning.”
“I don’t appreciate being pandered to,” Erik growls mutinously, regarding the hand and the lines across it, the slim shape of Charles’ fingers, because Charles is not really here to catch Erik looking.
“I know you don’t,” Not-Charles says, quiet. Erik takes his hand.